


Throwing Up and Dreaming

by DJs_Random_Writings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Powerlessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 09:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15771528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJs_Random_Writings/pseuds/DJs_Random_Writings
Summary: Just a bit of Bucky being tortured after being captured by Hydra. I wrote this because I like to torture myself, so you are definitely under no obligation to read it.(I just have a weird knack for writing about violence. My mother says it's an issue.)





	Throwing Up and Dreaming

 

Bucky Barnes was no stranger to being sick. He had thrown up before, he could handle it.

But usually throwing up was relatively tidy. Bucky would throw up in a bucket, and someone would be supporting him so he could sit up comfortably. There would be a gentle hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of his back, and the voice attached to the hand would make soothing noises. Besides, Bucky always knew when he was going to sick, because the restlessness and nausea in the pit of his stomach would warn him.

What he was doing now was not how Bucky normally threw up.

First off, they had been hitting him repeatedly, so the pain covered up the nausea until it was too late, so he hadn’t been expecting it.  
And he was lying on his stomach. His weak and shaking arms tried to hold him out of the sick but they eventually gave way and his chest fell into the gunk.  
At least his face had avoided the worst of it, but the stench was almost overwhelming, and he shivered from the cold. He didn’t really have anything to throw up, the only substance in his stomach was bile, and that was horrible and bitter in his throat, stinging on it’s way up.

Rough hands grabbed him and hoisted him up, shaking him violently. Bucky couldn’t resist them if he tried. His body was so exhausted; all he could do was let them do whatever they wanted. Cruel obscenities in a language he didn’t understand were hurled at him.

He didn’t want to be scared. He didn’t want to hurt. And he really didn’t want to cry. But the world seemed to have it’s own plans for him, so he let the tears drip over his eyelids and down his cheeks. They continued to drop until they hit the ground and watered down the sick.

There was still vomit in his mouth; it burned and tasted vile, so he pushed it out with his tongue, letting it dribble down his chin. The voice holding him made a disgusted sound and let him drop. His head hit the hard, concrete floor and sparks flew across his line of sight like firecrackers at the neighbour’s Fourth of July party.  
He couldn’t let himself fall asleep. If he slept, they could attack him and he would never see it coming. But his body wanted sleep, and Bucky didn’t seem to have a say in the matter, so his weak fighting did nothing to prevent the black that obscured his vision.

A gentle hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of his back, and a calm voice that made calming noises stopped his struggling, and he instinctively relaxed. A thin voice spoke as well, told him he was going to be alright because, “I swear your Ma’s a wizard, Buck. She can make you feel better in no time. And I should know.”

Bucky let the voices comfort him. At least for now, the pain could just be a nightmare.  
He dreamed, and the echoing of his screams faded away.


End file.
